The Chesapeake Diaries Series (190 page)
Read The Chesapeake Diaries Series Online
Authors: Mariah Stewart
“Open your eyes.”
“Oh, my God, Clay!” She laughed. “The chicken house! You built a new chicken house!”
The small house was a replica of the original, with a Dutch door and windows on all four sides, and was surrounded by a tall fence.
Clay opened the gate and held it for her. “Go look inside the house.”
She peered over the top of the half door. “Baby chicks! Oh, look at them!”
“There are several different kinds, see? I always liked the variety when my folks had them. There are a couple of Rhode Island Reds, a few Araucanas—they’re the ones that lay those pretty light blue-green eggs—and a couple of Barred Rocks.”
“They are so cute.” She watched them peck and scratch at the feed in a pan on the floor, then looked back at Clay. “You did this for me. You built a henhouse so that there’d be chickens here again because you thought it would make me happy.”
“Nah.” He shook his head and shrugged. “I did it because my carpentry skills were getting rusty.”
Lucy laughed. “I am happy. Thank you.”
“We’ll see how happy you are the first cold snowy
winter morning when you have to get up and gather your eggs for breakfast.”
“Those would be oatmeal days.” She nestled against his shoulder and stayed there, imagining herself living there on the farm where she’d always felt at home.
“It’s funny how things work out,” she told him. “I came back here to run a couple of events at the inn, but I never dreamed of staying. But something happened while I was working on the Magellan wedding. I started to feel more and more a part of the community, like I had a place here. I hated that I missed Vanessa’s wedding. I wanted to be there for her and Grady. But the last straw was looking at those pictures you emailed me during the party Brooke had for Jesse. Looking at those made me feel apart from it all again, and I hated that because I knew I should have been there with all of you, celebrating. And I decided right then and there that I belonged here, with you and with my family, and I wasn’t going to ever feel like I don’t belong here again.”
“You do belong here. You do belong with me.” Clay bent down and picked a white clover from a clump that grew outside the chicken pen. He took her hand and wrapped the thin stem around her finger, then tied it off. “It’s not much as rings go, but it will have to do until we can get something more permanent.”
“It’s beautiful, and it’s exactly right for this moment.” She held up her hand. “Let’s go back to the inn and show Mom and Dan. I can’t wait to tell them I’ll be home for the summer, after all …”
Diary ~
Oh, my, what a happy heart I have these days! To say that my fondest wish has come true would be an understatement! My Lucy has come home for good! Yes, that’s what I said: LUCY IS HOME FOR GOOD!
She and her partner have decided that three offices were better than one, and Lucy’s one would be right here in St. Dennis. Strictly speaking, from a business standpoint, it was a stroke of genius, because thanks in no small part to her, the Inn at Sinclair’s Point has become THE destination wedding spot on the Eastern Shore. And why not? I could modestly submit that we have everything one could want, but that’s a diary entry for another day. BUT—the big news is that she and Clay are engaged! Yes! There are those of us who have always known that the two of them belonged together—Clay certainly had no doubt. It just seemed to take forever for Lucy to figure it out. But figure it out she has. She’s rented office space and she’s moved her things from her L.A. apartment directly to the farmhouse, where she says she intends to stay. I’d always dreamed she’d be a springtime bride, but it’s looking like October might be the month. She says she has some fabulous ideas for the reception. All in autumn colors, she tells me—gold sunflowers and russet dahlias, orange and red zinnias, and other such things she saw growing in a field somewhere
.
It’s all happened so fast—funny thing, that. Why, Trula and I were just discussing the situation after Robert and Susanna’s wedding. She’d asked if I still had Alice’s journals—which, of course, I do—and asked me to show her. Well, of course, I didn’t mind sharing them with her. I know how discreet Trula is, how she’d never tinker with any of Alice’s spells because she knows how tempermental such things can be. Anyway, she was saying how I could probably help Lucy’s “situation” along if I had a mind to, but I assured her that I’d never interfere with any of my children’s lives like that—tempted though I have been on many, many occasions. I would dearly love to see Dan happily married again after these years as a widower, and few things would please me more than to have Ford settled—preferably here in St. Dennis, but what are the chances of that happening?
But no—I held fast and refused to give in to the temptation. Besides, as I told Trula, I was just too tired after all the activity to even begin to think of such things. A misread word, the wrong amount of herbs, and poof! Disaster! I excused myself to go to bed, and left her in my little sitting room, in a big cozy chair, with Alice’s journal on her lap. I’m sure she appreciated the opportunity to relax and have some peace and quiet. I’ll have to remember to ask her sometime if she found anything of interest in Alice’s journal …
Anyway, I am a happy woman—and a very blessed one. Who knows what good fortune will follow next?
~ Grace ~
To Cole—you are our sunshine
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Because writing the book is only the beginning, I must send many thanks to the amazing team at Ballantine Books—Kate Collins, Gina Wachtel, Scott Shannon, Libby McGuire, Linda Marrow, Junessa Viloria, Ania Markiewicz, Alison Masciovecchio, Kristin Fassler, Scott Biel—I sure hope I didn’t forget someone! These are the folks who do the heavy lifting, and they do a phenomenal job of making what I send them into a book, and then getting it out there and making sure people
know
that it’s out there. I owe them all big time.
Thanks also to my agent, Loretta Barrett, and her crew—Jennifer Didik and Nick Mullendore—for all the years of working so hard on my behalf.
The book you’re holding in your hands is number thirty-five for me! I know! I can hardly believe it myself! But without the support of my friends and family, I’d never have finished that first one. So huge thanks to Helen Egner and the late Carole Spayd for cheering me on back in those early days—and to Bill, Becca, Katie, Mike, and the newest member of the family, our darling Cole, for giving meaning to the journey.
Many thanks to Marianne McBay, Wed Accompli—Weddings and Events, Savannah, Georgia, not only for years of friendship and laughter (we don’t need to say how many years), but for sharing her knowledge
of the world of wedding planning that made this book possible.
Karyn Park won the right to have a character named after her in the annual ADWOFF raffle benefitting the Nora Roberts Foundation (thanks and love, as always, to Phyllis Lannik). Hopefully, Karyn is enjoying her new career as a celebrity photographer.
Lastly, since we have three cousins named Bonnie, it was only a matter of time until I named a character after them. So here you go, Bonnie Slavin-Walls, Bonnie Bricker Almquist, and Bonnie Shafer Sayette (whose maiden name was so good I poached it all!).
The Long Way Home
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Ballantine Books eBook Edition
Copyright © 2013 by Marti Robb
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
B
ALLANTINE
and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-345-54027-0
Cover art: Chris Cocoazza
Cover design: Scott Biel
v3.1_r2
Contents
Diary
When I was young and impatient and would say things like “I wish Christmas would hurry and get here!” or “I wish I were twelve already”—or fifteen, or eighteen, whatever the perceived magic age was at the time—Mother would always say, “Don’t wish your life away. Time passes quickly enough.” Another of her favorite expressions was “The older you get, the faster time flies.” The truth of the latter has been made clearer to me with each passing year
.
It seems that only last week or so, my daughter was planning that first big wedding at the inn last winter, and now here we are, a year later, Halloween behind us and Thanksgiving only weeks away. I blinked, and we went from talking about Lucy coming home for the summer to staring down the barrel of winter all over again
.
Another of Mother’s favorite expressions was “Be careful what you wish for.” On my last birthday, I made two wishes: I wished that my two wandering children would come home—come home and stay home. Well, half of that wish has come true with Lucy coming back … and joy! Making plans to marry Clay, just like I always knew she would do. Now if I could only wish Ford home as easily, I’d be the happiest woman on earth. Oh, I know I should count my blessings—and I do, every day. But with Ford
involved in … well, who knows where he is or what he’s doing? Certainly not I. People ask me what UN Peacekeepers actually do, and sometimes I’m not even sure myself. I know he’s somewhere in Africa. He said if he told me exactly where, I’d worry too much and he’d rather not lie if he didn’t have to, and that he’s safe where he is, so I shouldn’t be anxious. But really. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t worry after hearing that?
Exactly
.
Sometimes I ache so much to have him home—to have all three of my babes safely under this roof with me. Even though they’re adults, they’re still my babes, and I still worry and fret over all of them
.
